


worms

by orphan_account



Series: Create Something Every Day! (October 2018) [12]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Consenting to Save Someone Else, Do Not Archive, Fade to Black, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, October Prompt Challenge, Trypophobia, Worms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 11:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16449263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Prompt 13: Insects.





	worms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zai42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/gifts).



`Could you drop by and see me please? It's urgent. :)`

Jon stares at the text again as he climbs the moldy, narrow stairs to Martin's flat. The building is noisy with life: someone has their television up too loud, and a woman Frankenstein-screams over violins. A baby is crying. Someone's listening to ska. Embarrassingly, he can hear a man moaning — Jon doesn't try and figure out if he has a partner. He's never been to Martin's place before — whenever they've organized a curry night around the holidays Martin always says it's too far for everyone to travel. Now Jon wonders if he was embarrassed. Wonders, not for the first time today, why Martin would invite him here now. Wonders and — worries, a bit. The man's an idiot, but he's been off sick for two weeks now, no contact except for those cheerful texts. 

The door has about five different locks on it, probably not surprising given the neighborhood. Jon wonders how often Martin loses his keys, smiles grimly to himself, and knocks. Knocks again. "Martin?"

"Jon?" comes Martin's familiar voice, sounding anxious. Very belatedly, Jon wonders if he's hurt. Perhaps he fell and injured himself. Seems like a poor time to include a smiling emoticon, if so, but perhaps it was... ironic, or something. 

"Yes, I—" he clears his throat. "Yes, it's me. I got your text."

"My text?" He can hear Martin undoing the locks. "I didn't— look, just come in, hurry."

"What?" Martin sounds frantic, and when the door swings open he grabs Jon's wrist. "God, Jon, come _on_ , quickly, before they—"

But there is a terrible sound of worms coalescing behind him, and it's too late: the Hive rushes forward, spilling over both of them, pushing them into the apartment in a fetid wave of worms. And in behind it walks the witch in the red dress, a ragged parody of a human body that kicks the door closed behind it.

Jane Prentiss smiles, and a worm falls out of the hollow of her cheek. "Ah, lovely," she says. "The Archivist. Let's get started, shall we?"

"No," gasps Martin, but they're already in him, burrowing into his skin. He tries to slap at them, Jon doing the same to the ones on the floor, and Jane hisses like a cockroach. 

"Stop that," she says. "I could kill either one of you. Or worse. Archivist, do you want poor Martin to lose his sight? Martin, please don't make me fill your precious Archivist's lungs until he drowns in the sweet song of companionship."

They stop struggling. Well, mostly — the worms itch, a terrible deep below-skin itch, and Martin keeps trying to pull at them even though he knows he shouldn't. One breaks off half inside him and he gags. "Oh, god, please get it out."

"Martin," says Jon. "I'm so sorry."

"Hush now," says Jane, winding a hand through Martin's hair. "They're not very deep. And there are none at all in the Archivist. I'll let you both go back to your precious Institute with nothing but a few small scars — if you do exactly as I say."

Jon can see that Martin is shaking. He wonders how long he was holed up in this apartment, terrified of exactly this. "You'll leave Martin alone," Jon confirms, trying to keep the edge of desperation out of his voice, which sounds almost alien to him with static. If it was only himself in danger, perhaps he'd try and fight her, but _Martin_ — 

"I promise," says Jane. Neither of them know if she's lying. "Now, I think you should start to take your clothes off, Archivist. The three of us are going to have a little _fun_."


End file.
